Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk: A Digital Chronicle of Survival and Loss

Cinema has long served as a witness to history, but in the digital age, the nature of witnessing has changed. We no longer wait for news crews to arrive; the victims film their own realities. Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk (Yüreğini Eline Al ve Yürü) is a devastating testament to this new era of “cinema of urgency.” Releasing in Turkish theaters on March 6, 2026, this documentary is not merely a film; it is a digital artifact, a friendship forged in fire, and ultimately, a eulogy.

Directed by the acclaimed Iranian filmmaker Sepideh Farsi and co-directed posthumously by Fatma Hassona, the film is a raw, unvarnished look at life under bombardment in Gaza. It constructs a narrative from over 200 days of digital correspondence between two women—one safe in exile, the other trapped in a war zone. The film’s tragic conclusion is known before the opening credits roll: Fatma Hassona was killed in an Israeli airstrike on April 16, 2025. Yet, watching her voice, her eye, and her soul survive on screen is a profound cinematic experience. For the audience on fmovies.tr, this is the most important, albeit painful, documentary of the year.

The Premise: A Friendship Across the Blockade

The structure of the documentary is deceptively simple. It begins with a digital connection. Sepideh Farsi, a filmmaker known for her political engagement and exploration of displacement (The Siren, Tehran Without Permission), seeks to understand the reality of Gaza beyond the headlines. She connects with Fatma Hassona, a Palestinian woman living through the escalation of violence.

What starts as a professional exchange of footage quickly evolves into a deep, intimate bond. Through WhatsApp messages, voice notes, and shaky mobile phone videos, the two women share their lives. Farsi becomes the repository of Fatma’s memories, and Fatma becomes Farsi’s eyes on the ground.

200 Days of Resilience

The film tracks a period of over 200 days. It doesn’t follow a traditional three-act structure; instead, it follows the rhythm of survival. We see Fatma navigating the ruins of her neighborhood, the struggle to find clean water, the hunt for an internet signal to send a message, and the terrifying nights illuminated only by the flash of explosions.

The title, Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk, references an Arabic idiom that means to put oneself in mortal danger—to walk carrying your own life as an offering. This is exactly what Fatma does every time she steps outside to film. The narrative tension is unbearable because the audience knows the date on the calendar is ticking toward April 16, 2025. Every laugh shared, every plan made for “after the war,” hits the viewer with the weight of dramatic irony and profound grief.

Directors’ Vision: Sepideh Farsi and the Absent Co-Director

Sepideh Farsi has made a bold and ethical choice by crediting Fatma Hassona as co-director. This is not Farsi’s film about Fatma; it is a film by both of them.

The Aesthetic of Distance: Farsi utilizes the “desktop documentary” format effectively. We see the typing bubbles, the “recording” icons, and the pixelated video calls. This visual language emphasizes the distance between the two women—the safety of Europe versus the peril of Gaza. Farsi often intercuts Fatma’s raw, chaotic footage with shots of her own quiet, safe environment, creating a jarring contrast that highlights the injustice of their disparate realities.

Editing as Memorial: The editing process, presumably completed after Fatma’s death, transforms the footage from a chronicle into a memorial. Farsi treats every frame shot by Fatma as a holy relic. The sound design is particularly haunting; the hum of drones and the crump of distant artillery are constant companions, creating an immersive soundscape that refuses to let the audience relax.

The Subjects: The Witness and The Martyr

In a documentary of this nature, the “cast” are real people living through the worst moments of their lives.

• Fatma Hassona: Fatma is the heart of the film. She is not portrayed as a passive victim, but as a vibrant, intelligent, and courageous woman. Through her lens, we see the humanity of Gaza—the children playing in the rubble, the communal meals cooked over open fires, the dark humor used to cope with terror. Her voice, often breathless or whispering to avoid detection, becomes the narrator of the apocalypse. Her transformation over the 200 days—from hopeful to exhausted to resigned—is a devastating character arc written by reality.
• Sepideh Farsi: Farsi places herself in the film not as a savior, but as a witness. Her helplessness mirrors that of the international audience. She asks the questions we want to ask: “Are you safe?” “Do you have food?” Her grief when the messages stop coming is the emotional anchor of the final act.

Critical Review: A Document of Crimes and Humanity

Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk is difficult to review using standard cinematic metrics because it transcends entertainment. It is an evidentiary document. However, as a piece of filmmaking, it is masterful.

The Power of the Vertical Frame

Much of the film is presented in the vertical aspect ratio of a smartphone. In a cinema setting, this usually feels restrictive. Here, it feels claustrophobic and authentic. It reminds us that this isn’t a staged Hollywood production; this is what Fatma saw through the tiny window of her phone while trying to survive. The shaking camera during airstrikes conveys panic more effectively than any CGI explosion ever could.

The Narrative of Absence

The final segment of the film, dealing with the aftermath of April 16, 2025, is handled with immense sensitivity. Farsi does not show the moment of death; she shows the silence that follows. The cessation of messages—the “last seen” status that never updates—is a powerful cinematic representation of loss in the digital age. The film forces the audience to sit with the void left by Fatma’s absence.

A Political and Human Statement

While deeply personal, the film is undeniably political. It documents the destruction of civilian infrastructure and the toll on human life. Yet, by focusing on one woman, Farsi avoids the numbing effect of statistics. Fatma is not a number; she is a friend, a co-director, and a storyteller whose story was cut short. The film serves as an indictment of the violence that took her life and a celebration of the spirit that kept her filming until the end.

Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk (Yüreğini Eline Al ve Yürü) is a masterpiece of modern documentary filmmaking. It is a harrowing, heartbreaking, and essential watch.

Sepideh Farsi has fulfilled her promise to her friend: she has ensured that Fatma Hassona’s voice did not die with her. This film ensures that Fatma walks on, her soul held in the hands of the audience. It is not an easy film to watch, but it is a necessary one. It challenges us not to look away.